


Saudade

by catadamon



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Bonding, F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Poor Alistair, Templars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 10:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5782927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catadamon/pseuds/catadamon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair comes to Skyhold to help, but only finds ghosts haunting him at every turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saudade

**Author's Note:**

> sau·da·de (souˈdädə/)  
> a feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia
> 
>  
> 
> My first adventure into Dragon Age fic! This is a result of me only wanting to see some kind of exchange between Cullen and Alistair. They had so much in common in my first playthrough, I wanted them to commiserate together so badly, but alas! I'm not sure what this thing became, other than just an observation piece looking at scenes that I very much wanted to see in both DAO and DAI.

It was impossible to not be impressed by Skyhold. Alistair had seen many fortresses in his lifetime, but none so breathtakingly beautiful. If the towering pillars of the entrance gate were not enough, the fortress was surrounded by snow capped mountains, embracing it in a secure hug to keep it secret, away from Corypheus. After hiding in the dark, bleak caves of Crestwood and it's perpetual storms, the sight of the sky above them looking so blue almost brought tears to his eyes. For a moment, the Calling rolling round his head was pushed far back into his mind. He knew that soon enough the song would come crawling back, its tiny black fingers slowly creeping into his thoughts. But for that moment, in that scene of beauty, there was peace.  
  
The Inquisitor, who up until then had been flanking her traveling party, came up beside him, a small smile on her face. "Are you alright, Alistair? It's a sight you've seen before, yes?" When Alistair looked at her quizzically, her cheeks flushed. "On the search for the Temple of Sacred Ashes..." she explained, hurriedly, the pink in her cheeks darkening.  
  
Alistair let out a chuckle. "Yes, I suppose. But Haven held no beauty like this, I assure you. This place... it's amazing, Inquisitor."  
  
She joined him in soaking up the view, the smile on her face growing wider. "It truly is. When Haven was lost--" her voice trailed off. She cleared her throat, clearly trying to push away uncomfortable thoughts. "I did not think we would find new accommodations such as these. Having Skyhold, well... let's just say it seems to have given us something tangible."  
  
"I think you're not giving yourself enough credit there," Alistair murmured.  
  
"I beg your pardon?" she blinked at him.  
  
As they neared the gates of Skyhold, there was a growing roar of the Inquisition's supporters clamoring to meet them on their approach. To see the return of their beloved Herald of Andraste. Alistair smiled at the Inquisitor. They had only been acquainted for a few weeks during their travels, but he could see why so many people were following her. She had the same natural charm as Amell. And like her, he was sure the Inquisitor had no idea she even had that power over people. " _You_ gave them something tangible," he clarified. "Skyhold just gave them a roof over their heads."  
  
The Inquisitor nearly tripped over her feet. Varric easily stepped in, catching her, with a wide grin on his face. As the Inquisitor gave the dwarf her thanks, he turned to Alistair, still smirking. "Careful now-- don't want to make Curly jealous. I heard they call him the Herald's Lion for a reason."  
  
The Inquisitor's face reddened as she hurried forward, muttering to herself. Alistair blinked at the dwarf. "Curly?"  
  
"You'll see," Varric said with a shrug. "He's... protective of her when it comes to other suitors."  
  
" _I wasn't_ \--" Alistair cleared his throat. "I wasn't flirting! I'm a happily taken man."  
  
"Oh right," Varric eyed him. "From the stories I've heard, I'd probably not want to piss off the Hero of Ferelden either."  
  
"The woman killed an Archdemon. It instills a permanent fear in you." Alistair replied, flashing him a grin.  
  
Varric laughed. "I can only imagine!"  
  
As gates slowly drew open, a wave of cheers hit the returning entourage. It reminded Alistair of the few weeks after the Blight was ended. So much celebration, cheers wherever they traveled. The proclaimed Hero of Ferelden looking so uncertain under all of the attention.  
  
The crowd made a path to the courtyard, where there was a small entourage waiting. In the forefront of it was an important looking soldier, perhaps the leader of the Inquisitor’s vast army-- although he was quite younger than Alistair would have assumed. There was a flicker of recognition, like someone from a dream.  
  
The soldier made his way towards the Inquisitor's party, an unreadable expression on his face. The Inquisitor raced to greet the solider first, a bright smile on hers.  
  
Varric let out a low chuckle as he turned to Hawke. He nodded towards the Inquisitor, a smirk on his face. "Watch this. It's so adorable I'd never get away with putting it in one of my stories, because no one would believe it."  
  
"Or they would just start vomiting from how sickeningly sacchariferous it is," Dorian added with a shrug. "Thankfully," the Tevinter added, "We’ve become rather immune to the lovebirds. Although I would suggest keeping your distance when they are around each other," he grinned at Alistair. "It is awfully nauseating until you get used to it."  
  
"Speak for yourself," Iron Bull said, a large grin on his face. "Nothing makes me laugh more than seeing the Commander’s face turn red and then run into something as he stutters."  
  
The Inquisitor and the Commander shared a brief greeting. She was all smiles, light and joy, while the Commander wore a mixed expression that Alistair recognized instantly. It was an expression that seemed permanently etched upon his own face during the Blight. Relief for the fight was over and his love was unharmed. Worry for the next fight to come and the one after that. The Commander quickly scanned the Inquisitor for injuries, trying to be nonchalant about doing it. It was a tactic that Alistair was quite familiar with.  
  
Then the Commander's tense smile widened, turned genuine, and Alistair felt his heart pang. He could feel the relief the Commander felt, and he knew in that instant how deeply the Commander cared for the Inquisitor. There was nothing physical between them, save for the Commander holding the Inquisitor’s hand for the briefest of moments. But it was clear to anyone with eyes that the two were deeply in love.  
  
Alistair’s mind was quickly overtaken with thoughts of his love. How was she? Had she found the Architect yet? When would they be together again? He missed her so--  
  
_You let her go by herself, into the unknown. You deserve nothing of the light, and you know this._  
  
And there it was. The Calling creeping back into his thoughts once again. He willed the voices away. Now was not the time to lose face in front of everyone.  
  
"Cullen?!" Hawke exclaimed, breaking Alistair out of his dark thoughts. "Andraste’s tits, it is you!" She rushed passed Alistair and took Cullen’s hand. She shook it vigorously, in the way that only Hawke could get away with. "I hardly recognized you! Trevelyan mentioned you--"  
  
"About a thousand times," Dorian drolled beside the Inquisitor as he put his hand on her shoulder. He rolled his eyes dramatically, but there was a playful grin on his face.  
  
"But Maker," Hawke continued, "You look _different_!"  
  
"He does?" the Inquisitor blinked, eyeing their clasped hands a little nervously.  
  
Cullen rubbed the back of his neck nervously with his free hand. "Serrah Hawke, it is good to see you again. I apologize for not seeing you on your previous visit, but I was indisposed. The Inquisition is grateful for all of your help in this matter. I take it this is your contact?" He gestured to Alistair.  
  
There was something in the man’s voice. It echoed to something in Alistair’s memory, but he couldn’t place it.  
  
"Oh yes," Hawke said, finally releasing Cullen’s hand. Alistair saw the Inquisitor’s shoulders unclench. "This is Warden Alistair. He has some information on where the Grey Wardens are gathering in the West." Alistair nodded in acknowledgement. "Alistair, this Cullen. He was the Knight-Captain of the Templars back in Kirkwall."  
  
Alistair raised an eyebrow. "The same Knight-Captain who helped you fight Meredith? Well then," he offered his hand. "It’s a pleasure. To go against your Knight-Commander like that, to do what was right-- you are a very brave man."  
  
Cullen nodded slightly as the two shook hands, never looking Alistair in the eyes. "Although I’m no longer a Knight-Captain, or a Templar for that matter." He looked as if he wished to say more, but thought better of it. He turned to the Inquisitor instead. "Inquisitor, when you have a moment, I have some matters I wish to discuss with you."  
  
She nodded, her cheeks pinking. "O-of course, I will come to your office as soon as I am free."  
  
Cullen turned his attention back to Hawke, avoiding looking at Alistair. "Do enjoy your time at Skyhold. If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to let me know. If you will excuse me, Serrah Hawke, Warden." He left before Hawke could respond.  
  
Dorian huffed at Cullen's retreating figure. "What, no kiss? We've been to the other side of Ferelden and back! The least he could do is sweep his lady love off her feet and give her a good snogging." The Inquisitor smacked him hard in the shoulder, but her cheeks were growing darker from the embarrassment.  
  
"Now, now," Varric shook his head, a knowing grin on his face. "They like to keep it discreet."  
  
"It’s the worst kept secret in Skyhold!" Dorian retorted, as Iron Bull let out a loud laugh. The three companions walked towards the pub on the other side of the courtyard, each giving the Inquisitor a knowing tap on the shoulder as they left.  
  
Hawke looked a bit flustered. She turned to the Inquisitor, a nervous smile on her face. "I’m sorry for interrupting your reunion."  
  
"It’s fine, really Hawke. You don’t need to--" The Inquisitor shook her head.  
  
"I was just so shocked to see him looking so well..." Hawke continued. "He looks happy. No doubt, your doing." The Inquisitor’s face turned completely red. Glancing to Alistair, Hawke asked, "Are you alright? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost."  
  
With a blink, Alistair looked to Hawke. He pushed forth the best smile he could. "I’m fine. The Commander just looked--" Alistair watched the Commander as he vanished into the large fortress that was Skyhold. A former Templar? Suddenly it all fell into place. He remembered the tower. The poor man surrounded by hopelessness and death, screaming at those who came to save him. "Familiar."  
  
For a moment, Hawke stared at him, clearly confused. But then realization came across Hawke’s face. "He’s mentioned to me before that he was at Kinloch Hold during--"  
  
"--During the Blight," the Inquisitor finished, putting the pieces together herself. She looked to Alistair. "You were there with the Hero of Ferelden. You saw Cullen when the abominations--"  
  
"It was a long time ago," Alistair said, cutting her off. It was a poor excuse he found himself using too often as of late, but he would not darken the Commander's reputation because of his actions on that day. Not when he could see such love in the Inquisitor's eyes.  
  
The Inquisitor opened her mouth to say something else, but she pressed her lips together and gave a short nod. "Of course."  
  
"Go on," Alistair nodded in the direction Cullen went. "You don’t need to waste your time on us."  
  
"I’m sorry?"  
  
"You’ve been away from Skyhold for, what, a fortnight now?"  
  
"Two and a half, actually," the Inquisitor replied, her cheeks starting to pink again.  
  
"I know a thing or two about how it feels to be separated from the one you care about." Alistair’s lips curved into a smirk, but inside it felt like it had been punched in the gut as his thoughts turned to Solona.  
  
_She's never coming back to you. Everything you touch you taint._  
      
"Hawke can show me around. Go on." Alistair made a shooing motion with his hand. The song was getting louder now, and he preferred if the Inquisitor didn't see him suffering through it. The Inquisitor looked to Hawke, who chuckled as she shook her head.  
  
"Welcome to Skyhold," the Inquisitor smiled, "If there’s anything you need--"  
  
"--we’ll ask," Hawke finished, a large grin on her lips. The Inquisitor mouthed a 'thank you' before chasing after Cullen. "Well," Hawke said with a laugh as they watched the Inquisitor leave. "Varric was right-- that was _adorable_. I think I have a toothache now."  
  
Alistair looked to Hawke, and the humor drained from her face. "You'll see her soon, Alistair. I promise you."  
  
Alistair nodded shallowly. "Not soon enough," he said, a bitter smile on his face.  
      


* * *

  
  
  
_I hope your compassion hasn’t doomed us all._  
  
  
It was clear that Amell still hadn’t recovered on the boat ride back to the docks at Lake Calenhad. Alistair had tried to crack a joke to fill the awkward silence on the trip back-- but Wynne had given him a reproachful look while Leliana glared at him. The joke died in his throat before he could finish.  
  
They camped just outside of Lake Calenhad that evening. Amell and Wynne spoke for what seemed like hours, which Alistair understood, of course. They were both from the Circle, and the elder mage could no doubt give the younger some guidance and support concerning the horrors they witnessed in that tower. From the camp fire, Alistair kept an eye on the young Warden. Her skin was still too pale, and she looked as if she would burst into tears at any moment. Alistair resolved to talk to her, to try and comfort her. After all, she had done the same for him after Duncan...  
  
He approached her during her watch later in the evening. The camp was empty, everyone else tucked away in their own tents asleep. As for himself, he was ready for bed as well, his armor stripped off, leaving only his light woolen shirt and trousers. Amell sat in front of the fire, her knees up against her chest with her arms wrapped around them. She looked so small, lost almost. It was the first time Alistair had seen her in such a vulnerable state.  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked quietly as he sat behind her.  
  
She shook her head no, the tears around her eyes shining in the campfire. Alistair felt his heart tug.  
  
This thing they had between them, whatever it was, was still so new. There had been flirting, a rose, and a few secret kisses behind trees when the team made camp, but not much else. He was afraid to name what it was between them, for fear of watching it wither before his eyes, and that fear was frightening enough as it was. But to also be so affected by her emotions... It was worrying.  
  
But it was not the time to dwell on his own trepidations. She needed comforting and he was compelled to do it the only way he knew how. He drew her in close to him, maneuvering it so her back was against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a light kiss on the top of her head. She relaxed into his arms, letting out a long sigh.  
  
He kissed her again, this time on the cheek. "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
"I just can’t help thinking if I could have prevented it if I was there," she replied, her eyes still watching the fire.  
  
Alistair pulled her in closer to him. "Call me selfish, but I’m rather glad you weren’t."  
  
"I could have helped, Alistair." Her voice was sharp, but he could still see the tears in her eyes. "I could have stopped Uldred before so many people--"  
  
"You could also be _dead_ ," he replied. "Or worse. Like that poor soul we found, screaming at visions. Maker, I don’t know how he lasted so long."  
  
" _Cullen_ ," Amell let out another sigh. "He didn’t deserve that."  
  
"You didn’t deserve getting screamed at either. You were trying to help."  
  
"I can hardly blame him for being so disturbed. Can you? He was a _good man_ , Alistair. I just hope after all this, he can be that good man again."  
  
Alistair held back the questions he had about that poor man and his rantings to the demons. It wasn’t the time in the tower, and it certainly wasn’t then. "You... knew each other... right?"  
  
"Quite well. He finished his Templar training within the Tower, and he was assigned to look after the apprentices. He was even at my Harrowing."  
  
"Didn’t Duncan conscript you just after that?" Alistair asked, pushing away the pain that rose in his chest at mentioning Duncan’s name. But there was so much to her life that he still knew nothing about.  
  
She nodded, letting out a bitter sounding chortle. "I realize now that they asked him to be there for a reason." She pushed her lips together and looked down, staring at Alistair’s arms around her. "It was probably Gregoir’s idea. He was hopeful that I wouldn’t make it through the Fade, and then Cullen would have to do his duty and strike me down. It would’ve solved everything, I suppose."  
  
"So you and Cullen--"  
  
"Don’t be jealous," she replied in a playful tone, nudging him in the stomach with her elbow.  
  
Alistair tensed his grip around her for a moment, a small smile on his lips. "Not jealous. And _hey_ , I’m trying to be _serious_. We are having _a serious moment_ here."  
  
She shifted her body in his embrace so she could wrap her arms around his neck. "Mm-hmm, you’re jealous. I can tell. You’re wondering if my type is strapping young Templars. I’ll tell you a secret-- they are. Especially blonde ones that are slightly awkward, but still very cute."  
  
His mouth twitched into a smirk, "A matter we will have to discuss further. _Later_. You’re trying to distract me and it's not going to work." Their dispositions were too similar for Alistair to be fooled by her trying to change the subject. Even if he wanted nothing more than to conquer that mouth of hers with his at that moment. "The more you deflect, the more my mind makes its own conclusions. At the moment, I’m envisioning a forbidden passion between the apprentice mage and young Templar." Her arms tensed. The smile instantly faded from Alistair’s face. "Oh. I see."  
  
"No," Amell shook her head. She brought her arms down, and once again nestled her back against Alistair’s chest. "Cullen was too devout to break the Templar vows. But there was something there. He was always kind to me, kinder than he should have been. He was handsome and gentle, and I was a young girl locked away in a tower. How could I not encourage his affections? But I had no idea his _ill-advised infatuation_ ran so deep that it could be used as a torture for him," she resumed staring at the fire.  
  
"You feel guilty that you were the source of his torment?"  
  
"Nothing happened between Cullen and myself. The demons took advantage of his guilt over having feelings for me. But what if..." She let out another sigh.  
  
Alistair brought her in close, moving his mouth close to her right ear. "What is it?"  
  
"I just... I worry..." She took in a deep breath, tears threatening in her eyes once more. "That will surely not be the last desire demon we encounter. What will happen if you... if I..." Her voice broke. "I couldn't bare the thought bringing you pain, illusion or no."  
  
His stomach fluttered, a warmth pooling within him. It was a feeling he was becoming familiar with the more time he spent around the fellow Warden. "Oh," he breathed. Alistair nuzzled his face against hers. "Then I probably shouldn’t tell you that I wouldn’t mind my last thoughts being of you, demon created or not?"  
  
Elbowing him in the stomach once more, she laughed indignantly. "I thought we were having _a serious moment_! That’s _terrible_ , Alistair!"  
  
"I _am_ being serious. We have well established that I am a bad, bad man," he nuzzled her face again. "It’s the truth," he added. Amell scoffed, but a smile was threatening to break through on her face. Not to be deterred, Alistair continued, "Then allow me to unburden your guilt, my lady. I hereby give you full permission to torture my thoughts whenever you so please. You do most of the time already, but you can do so freely, if you like." He cupped his hand around her cheek and lead her lips to his. As their mouths broke apart, he added, in a much quieter voice, "Maker, I wouldn’t have been able to resist you, vows or no."  
  
She leaned her forehead against his. With a laugh in her voice, she replied, "You would have been a terrible Templar."  
  
"No truer words were said, except perhaps--" He closed his mouth, his ears growing hot. "That I care for you." He let out a long breath. "Deeply." He kissed her again, more forcefully this time, to stop himself from admitting anything more to her. How he shared the same fears. How his heart lurched when he saw the mages in that tower. Seeing their horrified faces as the demons devoured their wants and needs, and he could only think of her.  
  
And how he would be helpless to do his duty if she became one.  


 

* * *

  
  
  
Five weeks passed quickly behind the protective walls of Skyhold. The fortress was vast, with perfect little alcoves everywhere to listen to gossip and just watch. There had been quite a bit of watching for Alistair. Learning. The Inquisitor was a most gracious host, allowing Hawke and himself into her inner circle with ease. But as much as she tried to make him feel welcome, Alistair kept his distance when possible. When he watched the camaraderie of the Inquisition’s inner circle, he felt pangs for his old life. The time of the Blight was terrible and full of so much loss, yet it was the best time of his life-- which spoke very poor of his life indeed.  
  
He thought often of Solona. At first, he tried to picture how she would be at dealing with the situation better than he. She always was a better leader-- far more patient and understanding. But as they learned more of what Corypheus was up to in the West, what he could do to Wardens, the more Alistair feared for Solona's safety. His mind began to reel with constant worry.  
  
Of course, his time in Skyhold was not without stumbles. The Inquisitor was quite an astute study of the fifth Blight, and while she no longer asked him questions concerning the Commander, she asked Alistair about everything else she could think of about that dark time. At times it was pleasant, to be reminded of how important their work was-- but then a cold reminder that he had done nothing for Thedas since.  
  
And then there was Leliana. The Inquisitor had simply glowed with excitement when she reunited the two veterans of the fifth Blight. But whatever the Inquisitor hoped to witness, was quickly dashed to the wastes. Seeing Leliana only made the ache in Alistair's heart worse. Leliana, who through it all, wanted them to be happy. Together. Seeing her without Solona by his side-- he felt like a disappointment.  
  
They were so young during the Blight. He was a fool to think he'd get his happily ever after. This wasn't a fairytale, and he was no longer a prince.  
  
Alistair found it best to avoid Leliana's coup, for her sad glances, and circular questions made everything so much worse. The song fed on her empathetic looks. It took hours and just as many pints of strong ale to get it to stop. Leliana in her mysterious ways, must have understood, because she kept her distance for the most part.  
  
One day she found him lurking on the barracks, a sadness in her eyes. "I received a response from the Hero of Ferelden," she said quietly as she pressed the letter into his hand. "Thank you for providing us the information to contact her. It does my nerves good to know she is safe from all of this."  
  
Alistair swallowed hard, looking at the letter in his hands. "Is this--"  
  
"In her letters, she instructed me to give this to you. Not to worry. I didn't open it."  
  
Alistair smirked. "Is that the Inquisitor's spymaster saying that or Leliana the bard?"  
  
She smiled in return. "Why Leliana, of course." She took a step towards him, the smile turning into a knowing frown. "She'll come back safe, Alistair. She always does."  
  
With a shallow nod, Alistair replied, "I know."  
  
Tilting her head to the side, Leliana added, "You know you can always come speak with me if you are feeling lonely."  
  
"Lonely? In a fortress teeming with people? I can't seem to go anywhere without being dragged into conversation!"  
  
Leliana stared at him. "You're alone in a sea of people, Alistair. I am only offering a friendly ear. Solona would want me to make sure you were getting along okay."  
  
Alistair raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess, your letter gave instructions to do this."  
  
She smiled coyly. "Perhaps. She is one of my closest friends-- so I care about the people she cares about."  
  
"I'm fine," he replied. Gesturing to the letter in his hand, he said "Now if you'll excuse me."  
  
"Of course," Leliana nodded before walking away, vanishing once again into her coup.  
  
  
He must have read Solona's letter a thousand of times.  
  
Maker's breath, he missed that woman.  
  
He hadn't informed Solona in his letter that the song was getting worse, as it would only serve to make her worry more. The Inquisitor would take care of Corypheus, and then it would no longer be a concern.  
  
When the song became too loud he would often find himself in the gardens of Skyhold. There was just enough conversation to keep the song at bay, but far less crowded than the main hall, where someone, Marker forbid, might recognize him.  
  
Alistair saw him often in the gardens, the man they called Commander. Alistair had yet to speak to him in all that time. Alistair remembered him. It was hard not to. But he doubted the Commander remembered anything from that day in the raving state they had found him. There was ten years and a lifetime of experiences between then and now. He kept his distance from him, unsure what to say to the Commander. Alistair did notice, however, that the Commander paid him the same favor, so perhaps he did remember their encounter.  
  
The Commander was quite fond of the chess table. The Warden had seen many a game played between the Commander and the Tevinter mage-- who Alistair found endlessly amusing despite his old Templar habits. There were also several games between the Inquisitor and her Commander. Those secret glances, flushed faces-- Alistair would leave them to it, and would retreat elsewhere, finding it too painful to watch.  
  
But on this day, the Commander was sitting alone at the chess table, staring into the void.  
  
Alistair knew he should leave him alone. They would be leaving for Adamant soon, and it was a terrible idea to get involved in the politics of the Inquisition. But he also knew that if he didn’t speak to the Commander at least in his duration at Skyhold, his love would never let him hear the end of it upon her return. "Are you up for a game?" he asked quietly, taking the open seat.  
  
The Commander jumped slightly as he was pulled from his trail of thought. With a long blink, he nodded. "Yes, that--" he hesitated for a moment. "It would be my honor, Ser Warden."  
  
"Oh no, none of that," Alistair half smiled. "Just Alistair will do, Commander."  
  
"Then I would be remiss if I didn’t ask you to call me Cullen," he gestured to the board between them for Alistair to take the first move. "I must apologize that I have not spoken to you during your time at Skyhold."  
  
Alistair moved one of the white pawns forward. "It’s understandable. You are a busy man in these perilous times. Your Inquisitor spoke highly of you on our travels. Before I saw you, I half expected you to be ten feet tall and made entirely of muscle."  
  
Cracking a smile, Cullen shook his head. "No, that would be Bull." Letting out a snort, Alistair smirked as Cullen took his turn, moving the left rook. "I just make strategies."  
  
"Probably was a bad idea to challenge you to a game then," Alistair replied, moving another pawn forward.  
  
The Commander let out a short laugh. "There are worse things." He immediately pressed his lips together. He nervously looked to his side. "I’m sorry. I should--" Pushing his hand through his hair, Cullen let out a sigh. He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Perhaps you don’t remember? At Kinloch Hold--"  
  
Shaking his head, Alistair replied, "It’s something hard to forget. Doubtless, it is harder for you. Although, had the Inquisitor not mentioned something about Kinloch to me, I would have never put it together that you were the same man." Alistair smiled nervously and hurriedly added, "And I mean that in a good way."  
  
"She mentioned Kinloch to you? _Maker._ " Cullen buried his face in his hands. "Of course she did. I don't know why I expected any less."  
  
"For not being in Ferelden when it happened, your Inquisitor is well versed in the ballads of the Blight," Alistair offered. "I didn’t tell her much. I don’t think that I endeared myself to her being so vague either, but I did not think it my place."  
  
Cullen let out a long breath. "You have my gratitude."  
  
Alistair nodded. Keeping personal secrets was one of the few things he could actually claim to be good at. "I think Solona would be happy to see how much you have recovered since she saw you last." And while the mention of her name aloud shot through Alistair like a blade through flesh, it was something that needed to be said.  
  
Cullen paused in picking up one of his knights, his face flushing pink. "I-" Clearing his throat, he tried again. "How is the Lady Amell?"  
  
Alistair closed his eyes. He could talk about this. He had before. "At this moment, your guess is as good as mine. It's been two years since I last saw her."  
  
His eyes softening, Cullen lowered his voice. "My apologies. I was not aware that you--"  
  
"That I?" Alistair raised an eyebrow.  
  
Cullen's face pinked. "That you were no longer together."  
  
Capturing Cullen's knight, Alistair smiled. "She's gone deep into the West on some damn fool quest. But our adventures during the Blight were nothing but damn fool quests. She will return to me. I know she will."  
  
Blinking, the Commander blanched. "Then, you are--"  
  
Alistair looked up, fully grinning. "Why? You planning to woo my Warden? I have to warn you, she's quite taken with me. And I have an inkling your Lady Inquisitor might have the same affliction when it comes to your attentions." He laughed, but cut it short when he saw the serious look on the Commander's face.  
  
Cullen's head remained down as he overtook one of Alistair's pawns. "Could I ask you something?"  
  
Alistair moved a new pawn forward. "I am but a guest of the Inquisition. I am here to serve," he added with a mock half bow.  
  
"When you and the Lady Amell... how did you-- during the Blight--" Cullen let out a loud sigh. "Weren't you frightened for her well being?"  
  
_You let her go by herself, into the unknown. You deserve nothing of the light, and you know this. She's never coming back to you. Everything you touch, you taint._  
  
"Of course," Alistair moved his rook, staring down at the board. He could not look at the lost expression on the Commander's face. "I still worry _constantly_. That didn't end with the Blight. She has a tendency to take too many risks in battle. She's a powerful mage, ruthless even, but magic won't do a damn thing to stop a blade."  
  
So many close calls. There were so many scars on her skin. Alistair had spent countless hours of his life memorizing each location, and what had caused it. It was an endless endeavor that would one day have an end. Not soon enough, sadly.  
  
The Commander moved his bishop to the left. After a long silence, he let out another sigh. "I must admit, I have some reservations about Adamant. I didn't say anything to the others but-- that fortress will be full of demons and desperate Grey Wardens. And we expect her to just waltz through--"  
  
"Knowing your Inquisitor, she just might," Alistair smirked.  
  
The Commander smiled for a moment, but then it vanished, replaced with a somber look. "I want to be there with her, not leading the siege." He pushed his hands frustratedly through his hair. "And as the Commander of the Inquisition's soldiers, that is utterly selfish of me. That is why this idea of the two of us was ridiculous and dangerous to begin with--" He let out anther long sigh. "I should have never let it go this far."  
  
Grabbing his knight, Alistair took his turn. "You're speaking like you can control who you fall in love with, which is foolish to even think, by the way. Your Inquisitor is strong, loyal, and loves you deeply. You can see it in her eyes when she speaks to you."  
  
" _Loves_ \--" Cullen's voice cracked. And for the briefest of moments, Alistair saw the Cullen that Amell spoke of-- the young, naive, Templar, unburdened by his cruel fate.  
  
"The trick to any successful relationship is trust, Cullen. You can worry as much as you would like, but you must trust her. Trust that she will return to you in one piece. If you cannot do that, it will only become worse as time goes on. What is an army of Wardens and demons compared to an Ancient Tevinter Magister who thinks himself a god?"  
  
_You let her go by herself, into the unknown. You deserve nothing of the light, and you know this. She's never coming back to you. You are not one who deserves the light. You have nothing here for you._  
  
The Calling's song blared through his senses. It was so loud, that Alistair was sure Cullen had to have heard it too. But Cullen said nothing, showed nothing on his face but understanding.  
  
"You are right," Cullen nodded. "I will do my duties to the best of my abilities to ensure she can return." In a softer voice he added, "To me."  
  
Alistair smiled as the hole growing inside of him doubled.  
  
"I will make sure she returns to you," Alistair added.  
  
Cullen looked to Alistair, wide-eyed and mouth gaping. "I couldn't ask that of you--"  
  
Putting his hand up for silence, Alistair replied, "You're not asking. Besides, I would get in so much trouble if I didn't. I have a reputation to maintain, and a dressing down from the Hero of Ferelden would do it irreparable damage." He let out a short laugh, "A verbal dressing down, mind you. I don't care about the literal--"  
  
Cullen cleared his throat, his ears slightly pink. "Thank you... Alistair." He moved his queen, putting Alistair in check.  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
_Now you lay and wait, for their screams will haunt you in your dreams._  
  
  
The fight was inevitable. Alistair was rather surprised that it took so long, really. As they reached the end, so close to finishing the destruction, Alistair became more and more terrified. Not of dying-- no he was fine with that, really, which was a frightening thing that would be better if he didn't dwell on-- but of something happening to _her._  
  
Their encounter with the Broodmother was the tipping point. He never thought of how the darkspawn were made, why there were so few female Wardens. As Hespith prattled on with her awful song, everything fell into place. He wanted to get Solona out of the deep roads as fast as he could. He couldn't let her fate be the same as Laryn's end.  
  
Alistair didn't let them make camp that night, didn't let them rest for more than two hours at a time until they reached the city gates of Orzammar. She didn't wait long after they settled into their dwarven accommodations before she confronted him. "What was that about?"  
  
"I don't know what you mean," Alistair blinked, trying his best to look innocent. He'd perfected the dumb, clueless look during his time at the Chantry.  
  
As she stared him down, arms crossed over her chest, it was clear that she wasn't fooled. "I mean the insane pace you just put us through. Alistair, none of us have gotten more than ten hours sleep in the last ten days. I _need_ an explanation."  
  
What was unsaid was that she let him push them, that she could have questioned him at any time, but didn't. That she was just as unnerved as he. "Getting out of that creepy place isn't a good enough reason?"  
  
Solona pushed her lips in a tight line. "Alistair," she warned, her tone eerily like the Mothers at the Chantry.  
  
Reaching out, he placed his hands on her hips. He tried to pull her in close to him, but she refused to let him pull her forward. "I was worried about you, alright?" he said, sounding much more defensive then he intended.  
  
"About _me_?" The line of her lips got thinner. "A little darkspawn, and that makes you worried? Alistair, we've killed hundreds, if not thousands--"    
  
" _This_ was different," he replied, anger creeping into his voice. He took his hands back and mirrored her arms crossed against his chest.  
  
"How was it different?!" Solona seethed. "How was this any more dangerous than going into the bloody Fade to chase after Connor? Or fighting a dragon-- _a dragon_ \-- pretending to be Andraste? All of those things are fine but--"  
  
"Because it could have been you," Alistair blurted out. Solona's mouth faltered for a moment, and he took the chance to elaborate. "If we had done one thing wrong, been taken unaware once, the darkspawn would have taken you and you would become-- one of those-- _those things._ You heard Hespith! I was terrified, and I'm _so sorry_ I was concerned for the well being of the woman _I love_."  
  
There. He had said it. It was out in the open now-- his heart exposed for her. Alistair wanted to take it back instantly, but she had to know. Had to know before something terrible befell them.  
  
Solona stared at him for a moment, her eyes wide. "Alistair..." But with a blink, her angered expression returned. "You can't put my wellbeing before everyone else's-- do you understand?"  
  
"I do--"  
  
Shaking her head, Solona interjected, "You clearly don't!" She let out a frustrated noise. "Alistair-- _listen to me_. Do you know what I go through every time I have to cast a revive spell on you?  
  
"I--"  
  
"It destroys me," she said, pushing him hard in the chest. "I'm terrified that I won't get to you in time. That you won't wake up. That you will die right in my arms. _Every. Time._ "  
  
Alistair's stomach dropped. "I... I hadn't thought--"  
  
"Of course you didn't! You charge into battle, no questions asked! Leaving me to protect you from your brashness! But that doesn't mean I fall to pieces in battle. I can't risk everyone else's life, no matter how much I want to drop everything and run to your side when you're hurt."    
  
He was taken aback by the open honesty shining in her eyes. Alistair stepped towards Solona, but she again maneuvered away from him. "But that's--"  
  
"You weren't thinking things through! Making us cover over two weeks worth of travel in ten days, with little to no sleep, is arguably more dangerous! If the darkspawn caught up to us in these last few days, we would have been useless in a fight."  
  
The truth hit him hard in the gut. Floundering for a retort, he shook his head. "I'm-- sorry. I didn't--"  
  
"I know you didn't," she replied, her words a bit softer. She stepped towards him then, her hand reaching out for his cheek. A smirk formed on her lips. "This is why I'm the leader," she said, laughter in her voice.  
  
He put his hand over hers. "And here I thought I did it because I like watching that lovely wiggle of yours all day." He leaned towards her, so their foreheads were touching. "I'm sorry," he said, sighing. He traced her lips with the fingers of his free hand.  
  
"And how dare you tell me you love me like this." She pulled her head back, expression still stern as she looked him in the eyes. "I love you too you big idiot. But this can't happen again. You're going to have to trust me, if we're going to make this work."  
  
"I do trust you," he replied. "I just... worry."  
  
"I'll always come back to you, Alistair," she said before pressing a light kiss to his lips. "I promise."  


 

* * *

 

  
  
The green haze of the Fade burst around them as he and the Inquisitor were thrown back onto the stones of Adamant's battlements. Alistair's instincts kicked in, willing himself to roll into the fall. As he did so, he jarred the wound he had received from the Nightmare's minions.  
  
Each of them had seen something different within that dreaded place-- a torment to push them over the brink, Alistair's had been Desire demons, all with Amell's face and her voice. It was agony to hear her voice scream for him as he sliced them down with his blade.  
  
They were alive, _but_ Hawke...  
  
...Hawke was _gone_. Another failure to his name.  
  
He couldn't stay. Not in this Keep filled with the ghosts of the past, with Wardens looking to him for guidance, for leadership. He would do his duty, as he always did, but only until he could be relieved of it. The Nightmare was right-- he was no leader. The voices of the Calling were now gone, taken over by the words of the Nightmare repeating over and over in his head.  
  
Alistair made his way out of Adamant and into the temporary command center of the Inquisition. He saw the Commander approach, his eyes tense. "She's all right," Alistair reassured him before he could ask.  
  
Cullen let out a quick breath. "Thank the Maker. When I saw that bridge go out and the rift open--"  
  
"She pulled us into the raw Fade to save us," Alistair explained. The serious expression on Cullen's face grew more worried. "She can explain it to you better than I can, of that I'm certain."  
  
"The scouts said Hawke didn't--" the Commander's voice cracked.  
  
"She saved us," Alistair said quietly. "She sacrificed herself so we could escape."  
  
Cullen shook his head, a strange smile on his face. "That sounds like Hawke."  
  
Alistair nodded towards Adamant. "You should go see the Inquisitor. It wasn't easy in the Fade," Alistair swallowed. "She'll need someone right now."  
  
Nodding Cullen asked, "Has someone looked at that wound of yours yet?"  
  
"It's fine," Alistair said with a shrug. "I've got a few healing potions--"  
  
"We have tents just over there to tend the wounded," Cullen gestured to a group of tents to their right. Alistair opened his mouth to protest, but the look Cullen gave him told him the Commander wouldn't accept any argument. He nodded instead. Cullen let out a long breath, and said, "You have my thanks, Warden Alistair."  
  
"There's no--"  
  
Cullen shook his head. "There is," he said, firmly. "I owe you much more than you realize, actually." Cullen offered his hand, which Alistair took and gave a firm shake. "I hope we meet again someday, so I can attempt to repay you."  
  
Alistair nodded. "As do I. Now _go to her_ , you fool," he said, a smirk forming on his lips.  
      
Cullen shook the Warden's hand one last time before breaking the contact. As he walked passed Alistair, he gave the Warden a light touch on the shoulder, his eyes looking at Alistair's wound.      
  
The healing tents were packed with soldiers, both of the Inquisition and Wardens. His side wound throbbed to the point that walking was becoming uncomfortable, but with so many Wardens-- he couldn't linger. He couldn't bare to be called a hero after all of that.  
  
As he turned to leave, someone grabbed his by the elbow. "That's a nasty wound you got there, Ser Warden."  
  
Bristling over the attention, Alistair pulled his arm away. "It's nothing," he said between clenched teeth. He looked up to who had grabbed him. It was a Warden mage with a large hood pulled over her face. As the mage took off her hood, for a fleeting moment, Alistair was sure he was still in the Fade and that this was the worst illusion of them all. A desire demon finally come to finish him off.  
  
But at that point he didn't even care if it was. She was here with him again.  
  
" _Solona_ ," he breathed. His knees gave out from under him, but she easily caught him, her arms holding him close to her. " _How_ \--" Alistair managed to croak out as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. He tucked his face in the crook of her neck, pressing his lips to the small amount of skin that was free from armor.  
  
"Oh you know--" she let out a sound between a laugh and a sob. She kissed the side of his head. "I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I'd stop to see how the Wardens at Adamant were." She cupped the back of his head and pulled him closer. He could feel tears streaming down her neck. Or perhaps they were his. "And you?"  
  
Alistair rubbed his hands back and forth over her back. It was her, not an illusion. She had finally returned to him. "Running for my life, hiding in caves, taking strolls in the Fade, getting in over my head in trouble-- just the usual." He pushed his lips against hers. She let out a low moan as she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss. Two years. It seemed like twenty. Pulling away from the kiss, her looked in her eyes, "The Architect?"  
  
Solona shook her head. "Later." A soft blue glow began to form in her right hand. She pressed it up against Alistair's injury. The pain subsided a little. It was a small healing spell. It was a temporary fix to stop the bleeding. Alistair knew it would still require further attention. "Come on--" she pulled him into an empty tent a few paces away.  
  
As she helped him lie down on the cot, Alistair let out a loud groan of pain. "Now I know you're not a desire demon here to tempt me," he said, wincing. "A desire demon would be much more gentle."  
  
"Well, you would know." Solona laughed despite herself and pushed him to lay down all the way. As she began chanting, a large blue light formed around him. It was a revive spell-- something he was very familiar with. He must have been hurt worse then he thought. Under his heavy Warden armor, he could feel the threads of muscle and flesh knitting back together. The cool light overwhelmed him. He closed his eyes and let it take him back into the Fade. There were no Nightmares to be fought, no demons to be slain, no more song deafening him. Only the warmth of his love overtaking him with a comforting embrace.  
  
When he awoke, it could have been hours or days later, for all he knew. Solona was curled beside him on the ground, watching with a small smile on her lips, as she ran her hands gently over his arms. Somehow she had stripped him of his armor after he had passed out, leaving him in a tunic and his under trousers. She also had removed her armor. With it gone, he could see how thin she had gotten in the past two years of traveling alone. A lump formed in his throat. He should have gone with her. She shouldn't have had to go through all of that by herself. "And how is the _Warden-Commander_ feeling?" she asked in a quiet voice, jarring Alistair from his thoughts.  
  
Alistair let out a long groan. "You've heard then." Weishaupt, the orders to help the Inquisition, perhaps it would never be over. Were they to never truly have a moment's peace?  
  
"The troops were buzzing," she said, looking clearly amused. "Can you believe that _the_ Alistair as Warden-Commander of Orlais? How exciting! Of course, as the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, I suppose I could put up some objection, as I was quite sure you were one of my conscripts."  
  
He laughed then, the movement hurting his newly healed wound, but he didn't care. "Hmm, doing so might start another front in the Civil War. Then again," he pulled her in close to him, one hand wrapped around her waist and the other cupping her cheek. "Our union might bring an end to it." He leaned his head towards her and placed a light kiss on her lips. "Maker," he said, brushing his fingertips against her cheeks. "I've missed you."  
  
She smiled, running her fingers through his hair. "I told you, I'll always return to you."  
  
Humming, he closed his eyes and let the sensation of her touch overtake his senses. "I never doubted it," he replied with a smirk.


End file.
